


Deidre Vs Boxing Day

by Quannon



Series: Good Omens Character Studies [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas Party, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quannon/pseuds/Quannon
Summary: Where miracles happen at odd moments.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Mr/Mrs Young, Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Character Studies [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564321
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Deidre Vs Boxing Day

Deidre Young sighed as she looked at the breakfast table. She had gotten up this Boxing Day at 7 am to start getting ready for the “friends’ dinner” that Adam had insisted they have this year. He had invited Brian, and Pepper, and Wensleydale of course. They were “The Them”. Silly name when you thought about it, she smiled fondly, but so Adam. Then he had invited that odd new American girl and her boyfriend, Anathema Device and Newt Pulsipher. Strange pair. She thought Adam must have met them as he and The Them played in the Wood. Finally, he had insisted, really insisted, on inviting four adults that Deidre didn’t know: a Madame Tracy, a Sergeant Shadwell, a Mr. Fell, and a Mr. Crowley. She was not entirely clear who these people were, but Adam said that they had all worked on a project together that had turned out rather well. Must be something through the school, she concluded.

Arthur had agreed to this, which Deidre thought something of a miracle. He had started out saying, “Absolutely not. I said absolutely not.” But at the beginning of Advent when Deidre had checked the written invitations Adam had made (yes email was a thing now but proper young gentlemen would send written invitations) before putting them in the post, she found that Arthur had countersigned them all. Very odd. Since he had apparently approved, she mailed them off and got busy with a menu.

Yesterday Deidre and Arthur and Adam been invited to Arthur’s mother’s Christmas dinner. They traded off each year between Christmas and New Year’s at each other’s parents’ homes. The elder Mrs. Young still kept tight control of a meticulously organized Christmas celebration. Everything just so from the holiday china to the cheese board to the correct wine with each course. It was so exhausting to maintain that ridged posture and remember to keep her ankles crossed and the polite smile pasted on her face …. and all the myriad familial interconnected stories that Jean expected her to remember. It was like a soap opera that you only tuned into once a year. And the complimenting of the exquisite goose (Jean really could do a fine goose) to the rather lumpy mash (Arthur supposedly always liked them that way when he was little {stern look at Deidre since her mash was always smooth}). But the fruit cake usually left her speechless. It just worked better that way.

When they had arrived home late last night, there had been no time to straighten up the house from the Christmas morning present extravaganza or do the dishes from breakfast. They didn’t do a full English since Jean’s dinner would be extensive, but Deidre had made eggs, bacon, hash browns and tomatoes. The dishes and the cooker were going to have to be cleaned before she could start today’s meal. And the disaster around the Christmas tree from unwrapping. Just when had she lost control of the unwrapping? Heavy sigh.

Adam really didn’t ask for much even though he was a constant worry to his father. Especially that time last August. But lately, things had seemed to be going better. This one meal was little enough to request and a chance to meet ALL his friends seemed like a very good idea.

Deidre got to work and by the time Arthur and Adam had gotten up 90 minutes later, she was deep into food prep for roast turkey with chestnut dressing, roasted potatoes, pigs in blankets, festive red cabbage, sprouts with chestnut butter. She had smoked trout pate for a starter with some crisps for the children if they’d rather. And a cheese board. Dessert would be an easy trifle due to time constraints. She hoped they’d sit down to eat at about 3 pm.

After a catch as catch can breakfast of left overs Jean had insisted on packing up to take home from last night’s dinner, Arthur disappeared into his den and Adam was dispatched to straighten up the living room and get the dining room ready for setting the table. 

Before she new it, it turned 1 PM and the guests were arriving. Everything was still under control, so she put on her best party apron and asked Adam to answer the door and settle the guests. She loaded up the trays, backed through the door and headed for the living room. 

First to arrive were The Them. When Deidre set the food down on the coffee table, Brian and Pepper were deep in discussion of some radical social idea and Adam and Wensleydale were setting up a Jenga game in the corner. She smiled indulgently at them (unnoticed) and returned to the kitchen. 

As she was drizzling the basting juices over the bird, the doorbell rang again. Fortunately, she could hear Adam rush to open it, so she completed her task before repairing back to the living room to greet the new guests.

Anathema and Newt were ensconced on the settee looking on interestedly as Brian produced his favorite Christmas gift: an X-box. Oddly, Anathema smacked Newt’s hand when he reached for it. “It’s new!” She snipped. Newt looked abashed, but never-the-less pulled back somewhat. He still looked on in fascination. 

“Hello, I’m Deidre, Adam’s mother.” She smiled and then thought “they probably already knew that,” but pressed on. “Arthur will be with us shortly. Can I get you anything?”

Anathema looked up at her with those dark penetrating eyes and quirked the corners of her mouth up into what might have been a smile. “No thank you, we’re fine.” She did hold out a wrapped-up bottle. “We brought this for you!” She did smile this time.

Deidre took the proffered wine (surely that’s what it was) and smiled in return. “Thank you! I’ll just pop back into the kitchen to check on dinner. Should this be opened to breath?”

“No, no. We can just open it when we’re ready.” 

Deidre returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later the bell rang again and again Adam raced to answer it. Several people appeared to have arrived at once by the sound level. Adam seemed to be sorting it, but Arthur really needed to make an appearance. She darted down the hall to the den and popped her head in. “Arthur, Adam’s guests are here. I really think you should supervise in the living room.”

Arthur harrumphed. He was tuned into the match, Manchester United vs Newcastle, and had rather hoped to avoid this whole thing. (Manchester had possession most of the time and was 5:1 compared to Newcastle for shots on goal but anything could happen. They had had the edge last time too (3:1) but Newcastle had won 1:0.) He couldn’t understand what had gotten into him to agree to this, but too late now. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes, my dear. I’ll be right along.”

Deidre hoped that would be true and went back to the kitchen. In between bastings and prepping she set the table for 10 and prayed that things would all go well.

Thankfully, she did hear Arthur clomp down to the living room and she promptly put her mind back full time to choreographing the potatoes for mash and the vegetables. The turkey seemed to be coming along nicely; should be another 20 minutes and ready to come out of the oven to rest.

With about 10 minutes to turkey removal, Deidre felt confident enough to make an appearance in the living room. Retaining her party apron and wiping her hands on a towel, she checked her make-up in a little mirror in the hallway. Satisfied that she at least shouldn’t scare women and children, she moved into the doorway from the hall to the living room, pausing a moment to survey the field.

The furniture had been re-arranged somewhat in anticipation of all the guests. To her left, on the settee, were an older gentleman and woman. Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy most likely. At the moment, the Sergeant was animatedly wagging a finger at Newt who had a bemused expression. He had moved from the settee and was sitting on a foot stool in front of a wingback chair to her right. Anathema, who had moved to the chair, was looking sharply at the Sergeant. It seemed to be something about deserting one’s post. Deidre prayed for another conversational topic. “Sergeant. Madame Tracy. How was the traffic for your drive down from London?”

Madame Tracy pursed her lips at the Sergeant. “It was a very quick trip.” She glanced at the other settee with some affection. “We all came in Mr. Crowley’s Bentley. He is quite the driver! We got here in no time at all!”

Straight ahead was a second settee. It was occupied by a gentleman with hair so blonde it was almost white and who dressed like her great-great-grandfather. This must be Mr. Fell from Adam’s description. He was looking pointedly at the red-haired angular gentleman next to him who must be Mr. Crowley. Arthur sat in the other armchair discussing something about the match rather heatedly with Mr. Crowley who looked amused. 

The children were all seated on the floor playing Jenga paying no attention at all to the adults.

“Arthur,” Deidre started forward. “Have you offered our guests something to drink?” 

Mr. Fell smiled happily and smoothly stood while reaching for a bag next to the settee. “Allow us, my dear. We brought this for you.” He smiled such a warm, kind smile and handed her a bottle of sherry. When she could drop her eyes to look at the bottle, she read ‘Del Duque Amontillado aged 30 years’. “Oh my! Arthur, if you will do the honors, I’ll just fetch the sherry glasses.” She glance up. “Thank you, Mr. Fell!” He beamed back at her and resumed his seat.

Arthur took the sherry and began a complicated ritual to open it, while Deidre darted into the dining room. She returned to find the bottle now open and a discussion about the advantages of various types of sherry in progress. Smiling she set the tray down. “I’ll just pop back in the kitchen to check on dinner.”

Navigating around sherry glasses being passed to the others, she went back down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning the oven light on she discovered that the temperature had not moved a degree since she looked the last time. This would never do! Dinner would not be ready on time! Trying to stem any panic, Deidre checked that the thermometer still worked, poked the turkey to try to determine doneness, smacked the thermostat for the oven temp in case something was off there. Nothing. This was just going to take longer than she thought.

Pasting an “everything’s under control” smile on, she walked carefully back to the living room with the news. Everyone was still talking amicably. At least the social part of this dinner seemed to be going well. And Arthur hadn’t become incensed yet. All good. She cleared her throat for attention. “Ah, I have to report that dinner will be a little delayed. At least 20 minutes or so.” She laughed slightly. “Sometimes turkeys don’t have enough sense to cook properly, I guess. But we do have a few nibbles here so please, help yourselves.” She gestured to the crackers and pate with some grapes for variety.

Arthur tried to look crestfallen. “Oh, my dear! 20 minutes or more? I was just talking here with Mr. Crowley and Mr. Shadwell about the match. I think we will pop down to the den to just check the scores. No harm done!” He stood up and looked expectantly at the men. “Just this way. You too of course Mr. Pulsipher.” He led the way down the hall to his den where they all squeezed in with their sherry glasses. Deidre could hear the warmup blessings that Arthur used to get his old TV set tuned to the right channel.

Well, if the men had taken care of themselves, Deidre turned to the ladies and found Mr. Fell still with them. Bravely, she offered, “Well, now we can talk more freely don’t you think? With the match aficionados otherwise occupied?” 

The conversation ebbed and flowed touching on the latest government fiascos and moving seamlessly into local politics around the air base. It seems some changes were in the works there, but no one knew just what.

Deidre returned to the kitchen to find the turkey thermometer had still not moved a degree. She was appalled; she couldn’t understand how this could happen. She was not panicked, one did not panic, but possibly it was time to ask for some help.

Once again down the hallway into the living room. Mr. Fell noticed her distress. “Is everything all right, my dear?” he asked in his kind, gentle voice as he stood and lightly touched her arm. 

She immediately felt somewhat calmer. There were people who could help; this would be all right. “The thermometer in the turkey still hasn’t moved. I don’t understand what the problem is. I checked to see if it still worked and it does. The oven is still hot. I’m at a loss as to what to do next.” 

Madame Tracy got up followed by Anathema. She gestured with one hand toward the hallway. “Please, let me take a look. I’ve some experience with recalcitrant turkeys.” She smiled broadly at that and added, “Please call me Marjorie. I’ve left most of the ‘madame’ stuff behind.”

Hovering between relieved and not knowing quite to make of that, Deidre accepted the help and led the three women back toward the kitchen. “Please, this way.” 

Once there, she was just showing Marjorie the oven and the thermometer problem when she heard what sounded like a scuffle coming from Arthur’s den. Shocked, she stammered, “I must go and see if Arthur needs anything. Will you be all right for a moment?” Off she sprinted without waiting for an answer. Vaguely she heard, Madame Tracy … Marjorie ... call to Mr. Fell for some reason and Anathema give a short snort of a laugh.

When she reached the doorway to Arthur’s study, she saw all the men staring at Newt Pulsipher and Newt staring at a totally dark television screen. Arthur was about to become incensed; she could just feel it. “Arthur, could you please take a look at the oven and see if you think everything is all right? I’m concerned about the turkey.”

Arthur had his lips parted as though he was going to speak, but instead, he stalked past Newt and ground out, “Of course, my dear” and headed to the kitchen.

Deidre looked to Mr. Crowley who seemed to be the most in control. “Can you tell me what happened to the television?”

Mr. Crowley snapped a look at Newt and then replied, “We seem to have a blown circuit. I think that Mr. Pulsipher and myself can straighten this out.” He quirked a smile at her that did not make her reassured.

Mr. (Sergeant? She wasn’t sure) Shadwell added, “You were in the Army boy. You can fix your oon problems noo.”

She decided to take Mr. Crowley at his word and raced back to the kitchen passing Mr. Fell in the hallway. As she entered, she heard Mr. Fell exclaiming apparently to Mr. Crowley, “I can’t believe you! All this to check the scores of a game?” She didn’t hear anything more.

Arthur was doing everything that Deidre had done. Checking the thermometer, checking the oven temp, testing the turkey with a fork. And he had that tight, pinched looked about him that usually preceded “incensedness”. Then there was a crash in the living room.

Deidre literally sprinted into the room to find that the Jenga game had come to its ultimate cacophonous conclusion and all four children were almost rolling on the floor with laughter. Open mouthed with relief, she didn’t hear Mr. Fell come up behind her in the doorway until he spoke.

“Ah, Adam.” He kindness radiated through his voice. But for some reason there was a sharper undertone. “I see your game has ended. Do you think we can get on with things?”

Adam looked up at him and laughed all the harder. 

“Adam!” Deidre reprimanded. “Please apologize to Mr. Fell. He’s your friend, you shouldn’t be laughing at him!”

Finally, when he could gasp a breath, Adam tried to compose his face, but laughter kept escaping out the corners. He hiccuped, “Yes, Mr. Fell. I’m sorry. We can move on with things now!” Then he pealed off into uncontrollable laughter again.

Deidre looked from Adam to Mr. Fell who had obviously just shared a communication she didn’t understand. But she did understand that something was ending and something could move on. She hoped erratically that that meant the turkey would cook. “Adam, clean up that game. Then why don’t you and your friends take Dog out for a short walk before dinner? We should be sitting down at half 3.” Probably not the best move as Adam may or may not get back in time for his own Friends Dinner, but really, she needed a moment.

Mr. Fell added, “We would be quite desolate, if you weren’t with us.” Kindly; not sharp.

Adam and the others did get themselves under control for the most part and began putting the game away. Dog just knew something good was going to happen, so he was bouncing by the door. Arthur picked this moment to yell from the kitchen, “Deidre! I think I have it fixed now. I can’t think what you did, but I seem to have corrected it.”

Pasting her best party smile back on her face (she felt that she was doing an extra amount of ‘pasting’ today), Deidre nodded her thanks to Mr. Fell and returned to the kitchen to find just Marjorie and Anathema. Arthur had clomped back down the hallway to his den. All three women unobtrusively held their breath waiting for … something. 

One moment passed; then another; finally, the dulcet tones of the sportscaster wafted their way into the kitchen announcing the scores.

“Well,” said Deidre. “Let’s see what we can pull together.”

Thirty minutes later, everyone, including the children, were seated at the table saying grace. Except for Mr. Crowley who had a bit of a coughing fit. Mr. Fell had had to slap him on the back a few times asking gently, “Are you all right, my dear? Do you need a moment away?” Anathema had helped with the vegetables. They had gone a bit off peak with waiting for the turkey and Deidre being distracted. Anathema retrieved the bottle she had brought that hadn't needed to "breath" and added a bit to the vegetables along with a few herbs, talked to them sternly, and the dish perked right up. Deidre was endlessly grateful. Marjorie had taken over the trifle assembly. She’d thrown together the ladyfingers, the vanilla pudding, the whipped cream, raspberry jam, home canned peaches from Mrs. Smyth-Wythe, and the strawberry and blueberry compote from Jean (who could even put up veg and fruits, ask her) along with liberal use of the Disaronno Originale Amaretto Deidre didn’t know she even had. Marjorie had gone to the sideboard to get the planned alcoholic additive as Mr. Crowley passed on his way to the living room. Somehow, she’d come back with the Disaronno. (Deidre was really going to have to go through that sideboard and get it organized.) It looked a treat as Marjorie popped it into the fridge to chill. 

It was amazing, but despite everything, it looked like this dinner was delicious and turning companionable. Arthur was talking accountancy with Marjorie who seemed to have quite a grasp of the financial angles. Deidre was not quite sure what line of work Marjorie had been in, but prudent and skillful investing and allowed her to retire. Not quite cost accountancy, but there was common ground. She and Mr. Fell discussed the flavor profile of her menu. She was quite pleased to have someone who appreciated her modest attempts at fine dining. So much better to receive accolades than to be forced to give them. Jean. Mr. Crowley, Mr. Pulsipher and the children were all happily talking about Brian’s X-box. It seemed so wonderful for a holiday meal.

Then she made the mistake of asking Mr. Shadwell how things were with him. He looked at her sort of appraisingly and then glanced slyly at Marjorie. “Well, the Doctor told me yesterday that my sphincter ha’ gone bad on me all of a sudden. I dinna know that could happen and if they could get parts.” 

“Oh Mr. Shadwell!” Marjorie exclaimed and lightly slapped his arm. “We were going to keep that to ourselves, now, weren’t we!” 

He hrumphed in reply and then grumbled, “Public service. Warn people. Happen to anyone.” Then he looked pointedly at Mr. Pulsipher for some reason who looked blankly around the table not really following the conversation.

Arthur, for once, jumped in to change the topic. “I say, not really sure how you all know Adam. Was it a school project?”

Mr. Crowley glanced gleefully at Anathema. “Book girl, what do ya say to that?”

Anathema drew herself up even straighter and turned toward Mr. Young. “I met the children when they were in the wood playing witch finding. I’ve had them over for snacks and we’ve shared stories. I lent Adam my New Aquarians.” 

“Oh,” Arthur replied. He didn’t really approve of the New Aquarian nonsense, but Deidre would get restless if he pointed that out. “How nice.” He looked to Mr. Crowley. “And how do you know Adam?”

Put on the spot, the red-haired gentleman seemed to squirm. He couldn’t really have squirmed. Adults don’t squirm at holiday dinners. “I, er, ah …”

Mr. Fell smiled at him gently and replied for both. “I have a bookshop in Soho. Adam and I have worked together on a project related to books found there. He met Crowley at my shop.” 

Arthur thought that said everything and nothing, but how could he argue with knowing a bookshop owner? Maybe his son would finally settle down and take schooling seriously. “Jolly good! Adam, what score did you get on the project?”

Adam looked up from gobbling his food. “mtwhdnd”. Then he swallowed. “Aced!” 

Arthur beamed at that. “Splendid! Well done! Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Then he turned to Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell. “And you? How do you know Adam?”

Marjorie slightly tapped Mr. Shadwell’s arm and then looked directly at Arthur. “We met at the fair at the end of summer. I was doing Spirit readings and the children came to my tent.” She looked to Mr. Fell. “Quite by accident, my prediction came true, and we have kept in touch ever since.” Mr. Fell looked back at her and beamed his kindly beam.

Arthur, who had begun to feel like he quite needed to get more control over his son, suddenly began to calm about the whole thing. It was perfectly natural for his eleven-year-old son to strike up an acquaintance with an older gentleman bookseller and his friend, a witch and her boyfriend (well, Mr. Tyler was sure Anathema was a Person Of Interest), and, ah, a retired psychic and her friend. Perfectly natural. Nothing to worry about here. “I see. Jolly good! Glad Adam is associating with responsible adults.”

Mr. Crowley had to excuse himself for a moment as his cough came back.

In then end, everyone had left the table quite satisfied with both the excellent meal and the excellent conversation. As it was getting dark, Mr. Crowley announced that they’d better start back to avoid the traffic. Deidre wasn’t quite sure what traffic he was referring to, but she didn’t go up to London that much so it could be anything. Mr. Fell said not quite yet as he and Mr. Crowley were going to do up the dishes as the least they could do for such a fine meal. Time stopped for just a moment and then both Anathema and Marjorie took Deidre’s arms and guided her into an armchair in the living room. 

Arthur followed while looking back over his shoulder thinking, “That was strange.” 

As if he had said it out loud, Mr. Fell answered kindly, “In my Mother’s house, we never left the dishes to her.” 

That cleared that up. “Jolly good then!” He also went into the living to find Anathema and Newt on the far settee, Marjorie and Mr. Shadwell on the near settee, Deidre in the armchair and the wing back, his favorite, left for him. Excellent.

The ladies had just tidied up the starters trays when Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley came back into the living room. Mr. Crowley was muttering under his breath, “I just couldn’t stand around any longer. It’s your fault for making me help you.” Mr. Fell responded with “A Look” that silenced him but didn’t chase the mischief away from his eyes.

Deidre took this in with a bit of surprise, “You are done already?”

“Oh yes,” Mr. Fell beamed. “Crowley and I make a good team.” Crowley coughed.

“Hmph,” Crowley began but then perked up. “I think we really should start back. The Bentley won’t like it if we dawdle.”

The others all laughed a bit indulgently, after all, they had very full stomachs, from very good food, and Mr. Fell’s smile was very kindly relaxing …. 

Madame Tracy, Shadwell, and Aziraphale all slid onto the Bentley’s broad seats which had obviously been kept in pristine condition. Arthur oo’d and ah’d over it for a moment with Mr. Crowley as the Bentley was a classic. Privately, he thought his own car the most cost effective and better investment. Anything could happen to the Bentley and then where would you be. Then The Them and Adam came out. Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale all wished them a safe trip, but Adam gave Mr. Crowley a hug before he got behind the wheel. Crowley didn’t care who said they saw something different; he did NOT hug back.

As they waved the quartet off, Anathema and Newt also made their good-byes. Deidre gave Anathema a hug for all the help in the kitchen. She didn’t run away from it. Arthur shook Newt’s hand, but he wasn’t sure why. The children gave them all hugs and offered to walk them back home. 

“Not you, young man.” Arthur said to Adam. I’m sure there must be something you need to help your mother with.” 

Adam’s shoulders sank and Dog whined, but he did wish his friends good night.

Deidre shepherded them all back inside as Adam made a beeline for his room. As she and Arthur sank into their respective armchair and wingback, she said, “That went unexpectedly well.” Privately she realized she still had no idea who those people were to Adam, but she also realized that it was probably all right. 

A not-pasted-on smile lit up her face which Arthur missed as he was reading the paper.


End file.
